


Rodney Learns a Lesson

by ObsessiveExplosion



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Friendship, Gen, High Rodney, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25713655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessiveExplosion/pseuds/ObsessiveExplosion
Summary: Rodney takes an emergency stimulant to stay awake long enough to protect Atlantis, but the unpleasant comedown causes problems for both him and John, especially after they end up trapped in Rodney's lab.
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

John swallowed a yawn and resisted the urge to rub his eyes. At the desk beside him, Rodney seemed to be at the opposite end of the spectrum, muttering to himself and frantically tapping away at his laptop.

"Rodney."

The muttering continued unhindered. John sighed, unsure if Rodney had heard him and had elected to ignore him, or if he was just completely lost in his own world.

"Rodney."

More muttering.

" _McKay,_ " John growled. This, at least, got through to Rodney, who flapped an impatient hand towards John's face and immediately returned to his keyboard.

John bit back what he wanted to say, which was that if Rodney got that hand any closer to his face, it was going to come off. He was just tired, he knew that. He'd been awake for the better part of two days, helping prepare Atlantis for the latest bizarre space weather anomaly - this time it had been a solar flare. Predictably, an absolutely unbelievable amount of things had gone wrong, from machinery malfunctions to widespread sunstroke to grounded jumpers. But the flare had passed, they were all still here, and all John wanted to do was get some sleep.

Still, he couldn't be half as tired as McKay. Rodney had been working around the clock for what seemed like weeks. John knew he'd been getting some kind of emergency stimulant from Carson for the past day or so, but he had to be about ready to drop by now.

"McKay, come on," John said around another yawn. "Bedtime. You did it. No one's dead and you can get some sleep. Remember sleep?"

"I'm busy," Rodney said impatiently, not looking up from his laptop.

"You can't possibly be busy," John replied, wincing slightly at the edge of a whine in his voice. "There's been a grand total of two minutes since the last crisis. Come on, Rodney, huh?"

John put a hand on Rodney's shoulder and pulled at him gently, hoping to coax him off the chair.

"We need to finish this," Rodney said urgently, suddenly turning to face John. His pupils were noticeably dilated, and he was bouncing gently in his chair. John sighed.

"We did finish it. Come on, you'll feel better after this super caffeine or whatever it is works its way out of your system. Okay, buddy?"

Rodney's shoulders slumped, and he nodded. Relieved, John patted him on the shoulder, then gave him a gentle shove towards the door.

Rodney trudged towards the entrance, the very picture of reluctant acceptance. John grinned slightly to himself, then frowned.

"Hey McKay, you forgot your laptop…."

John grabbed the laptop off the desk, then turned around just in time to see Rodney crouching by the door control, pulling out a large handful of crystals and smashing them on the floor. John stilled, laptop forgotten in his hands.

"McKay?" he asked calmly. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Locking the door," Rodney announced.

John sucked in a long, shuddering breath. He decided to give his friend the benefit of the doubt, no matter how...insane he sounded. Maybe there was a reason Rodney was locking the door, a reason that made sense. John just...couldn't seem to think of one.

"Why are you doing that?" John asked, fighting hard to keep his voice even.

"I need to...concentrate," Rodney said distractedly.

"On...what?"

Rodney flapped a hand agitatedly, dismissing John. He was still crouched on the ground, next to the remains of the mechanism that controlled the door.

John did some quick math in his head. Carson had allowed Rodney a dose of the stimulant every six hours, and he forced him to take a break for six hours after every three doses, to get a little sleep and give his body a chance to recover. He'd taken three doses in a row now, and the last one should have been right about six hours ago, just before the shields had abruptly shut down. At that point, Carson had offered John some of the super caffeine too, as it was clear John was just running on fumes. John had declined in favor of a short nap, and by the time he had had to talk a few of his men through an unexpected jumper crash, he had been feeling...maybe not refreshed, but something that was close enough.

Rodney's jittery energy had never waned, despite the fact that at this point, he should be well on his way to coming down. Was this some sort of strange withdrawal? Unless….

"Rodney?" John said slowly. He didn't want to scare him. If he had been willing to _destroy the door,_ there was really no telling what he might do. "When was the last time you took a dose of that stuff from Carson?"

Rodney instantly froze to a degree that was almost eerie, especially considering the nervous energy that had been consuming him just seconds before. This was clearly not a question he wanted to be asked. He looked away from John, then stood up and started pacing.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sheppard. I haven't been getting anything from Carson. This is all...you've just never seen me work. Not really. This is all-"

John grabbed Rodney's shoulder, halting him in his tracks. "Less than six hours ago? Did you sneak a dose?"

Rodney shrugged slightly, still refusing to make eye contact with John, and that was all the answer John needed. This was going to be a _long_ few hours.

* * *

Rodney really didn't know why John seemed so upset. He felt _good_. He was full of energy, and every single brain cell felt like it was operating at top capacity. It would be _unfair_ to go to sleep, really. He wasn't sure that he'd ever felt so productive. Carson had wanted to cut him off from the _best drug in the world_ for ridiculous reasons. Personal reasons. He was just jealous.

Rodney McKay was on the cusp of a great discovery, he was sure of it. If he went to sleep now, that would practically be a disservice to humanity. He owed it - to Atlantis, to Earth, and to himself - to solve this. He wasn't exactly sure what he needed to solve yet, but he knew there was something. There was always something.

"Rodney?" Sheppard's voice, drawn out and grating as usual, almost infuriatingly slow to Rodney's accelerated thought process. "Why is the door locked?"

"I _told_ you," Rodney replied impatiently, resenting the Colonel's intrusion. "I need to solve something."

"McKay, open the fucking door." Sheppard was using his Military Commander of Atlantis voice now, the tone and expression that Rodney had seen set Marines trembling. Usually, Rodney probably would have been intimidated. But now, Rodney felt invincible.

"Nope. Can't," Rodney answered, getting to his feet. He walked back to his workstation, ignoring the crunch of crystals beneath his boots.

"Can't, or won't?"

"Both," Rodney exclaimed. He was beginning to get agitated. Why couldn't John understand that this was important? "Please, Sheppard, listen to me. This is...Earth-shattering. Or at least it will be, if you let me focus."

John sighed, and Rodney could actually _see_ the fight go out of him.

"But why do _I_ have to be here?" he whined.

Rodney blinked at the pilot, nonplussed. Even for Sheppard, that was a stupid question.

"We work quite well together, you know," Rodney told him. It was a nicer compliment than he was generally willing to bestow on anyone, but the stimulants coursing through his system right now were making him feel confident and downright generous. "Occasionally. On a number of incidents, you've provided useful commentary. And as I've repeatedly stated, this is important. I have to use every advantage I can get."

John seemed to smile slightly, although it might have been a trick of Rodney's hyperactive brain. He wasn't the best at catching facial expressions on the general, and he couldn't imagine that he'd be any better now.

"So I can't leave."

Rodney tapped his hand vaguely against his thigh. He was full of so much frantic, nervous energy that it was starting to get a little...uncomfortable. If he were being completely honest, sleep wasn't the worst idea Sheppard had ever suggested, but he knew that at this point it would be completely impossible.

"You can leave once I've finished," Rodney said, sparing a second of thought to hope that this was true. "I'll fix the door."

John did not look happy about this, but he seemed to have resigned himself to the situation, which Rodney supposed was all he could really ask for. He settled himself on the couch in the corner, the one Rodney had had installed when he realized he sometimes had no choice but to catch a few quick hours of sleep in the lab before getting back to work.

Rodney turned away from him. His eyes felt too big, like they might pop out of his skull if he didn't blink, or stop blinking, or something. He needed to figure out what he was supposed to be working on. He was too aware of his pulse and his eyes and his fingers.

He heard a faint, staticy sound behind him, and he whirled around.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

"I just called Teyla," John said, holding up a finger to tell Rodney to wait.

He called Teyla, he called Teyla. Rodney didn't think he liked that, but he wasn't exactly sure why. Teyla might come here and do...something. Something Rodney didn't want her to do. She might open the door. Although maybe that was a good thing, because as much as Rodney wanted to pretend he knew what he was doing, he wasn't exactly sure that he could get the door fixed with the control crystal smashed. But he...he could. That would be a problem for later, anyways.

He realized that John was talking to Teyla through his comm, and Rodney hadn't caught a single word of it. That was...alarming, although it was difficult to articulate why. Normally, his brain could run on multiple tracks. He could think, and also listen, and also….

He had stopped moving. He was standing completely still, staring at nothing, and he had no idea how long he had been like that.

John was still talking to Teyla. "Maybe just wait outside the door," he was saying. "I think it'll be fine, but in case…."

Rodney tuned out again. In case…in case what? In case there was another problem? Of course, that was it. There was another problem, one that Rodney was supposed to be solving. He had just forgotten what it was.

* * *

John leaned back against the armrest of the couch and watched Rodney vibrate in place. That wasn't an exaggeration - it was actually a bit difficult to get his tired eyes to focus on Rodney, because the slight tremor throughout every muscle of his body was making his outline slightly blurry.

John shuddered slightly, trying to imagine what Rodney was feeling with no small amount of horror. Honestly, even if McKay did open the door, John wouldn't have left. Rodney looked like he was heading for a breakdown, and John didn't want to let him go through...whatever this was...on his own.

Which meant that, for better or worse, John was stuck here. John shrugged slightly, giving up on a good night of sleep as a distant, unattainable dream.

"Whatcha doin, McKay?" John asked. Rodney had been standing in the same spot for about five minutes now, staring blankly into space.

Rodney startled, blinking owlishly at him. "Working?"

He sounded a little uncertain, which wasn't really something John was used to hearing in Rodney's voice. McKay always sounded sure of himself, even when he didn't know what the hell he was doing.

John sighed. He wanted to stay mad at Rodney for _locking him in a lab_ \- okay, maybe he was still a little mad - but the scientist just looked so lost standing there in the middle of the room, his laptop abandoned forlornly a few feet away.

"Working on what?" John prodded, as gently as he could.

"Things," Rodney replied vaguely.

" _Important_ things, right," John finished for him. "Do you need your laptop, buddy?"

Rodney blinked a few more times, then visibly brightened. "Laptop. Yes. Exactly. See, Sheppard, this is why you can't leave just yet."

John hid a smile and watched Rodney scurry over to the laptop, open it, and begin clacking furiously away at the keys. Every so often, he'd make some small exclamation, and his air of frenetic excitement increased.

After a few minutes, John began to wonder what Rodney was up to. Slowly and cautiously, he sidled around behind Rodney, peering at the screen.

"Rodney?"

"What is it, Sheppard? I'm busy."

"Rodney, you're playing Sudoku."

Rodney looked suddenly flustered, as though he hadn't realized what was on the screen in front of him.

"This is...part of it," Rodney said, sounding both defensive and uncertain. "I need to be doing this."

John took a steadying breath. John wasn't too worried about Rodney's physical, at least not right now - he didn't think Carson would give him something dangerous. The extra dose was...concerning, certainly, but if John knew one thing about Carson, it was that he was always overcautious with his patients. He was always ordering John to stay in bed for multiple days after an injury, rest after an illness, and take medications that felt like they were probably making everything worse. John was fairly sure that, once these few hours of hell were over, Rodney would be completely fine.

But that didn't mean he thought what was best for Rodney was staying trapped in a room, working on some project that might or might not exist. His friend clearly needed rest, and...and water, and lots of other things he couldn't get while he was locked in a laboratory.

Teyla had promised John that she would put Zelenka and some of the other scientists on the task of trying to open the door from the outside, but so far, nothing had happened. He had no idea if they'd even started yet. And anyways, Rodney was the best at solving problems like that. If he didn't start working on trying to get the door open again, they could easily be trapped in the lab all night.

"Hey McKay," John said, trying to make his voice sound as if a sudden idea were dawning on him. "I have a thought."

Rodney didn't react for a moment, off in his own world, but then seemed to snap back into the conversation with a little tilt of his head. He gave John a dazed looking smile.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I think that instead of playing Sudoku, you should work on fixing the door," John said. "That would be a really good and difficult project for you to work on. And if you get it fixed, we can both leave the lab and go to bed."

"No," Rodney said quietly, sounding confused. He did not yell at John, at least, which John had half been expecting. "No, there's something else that I'm supposed to be doing…."

"Yeah, listening to me. About fixing the door?" John tried, without much hope.

"No," Rodney snapped. There it was. "Let me think."

John sighed and retreated to the couch, waiting for his opening.

* * *

Teyla took a sip of coffee and grimaced slightly at the bitter taste. She didn't ordinarily drink the strong liquid, but she'd only managed to get an hour or so of sleep before John's call on the comms had woken her back up. Without the coffee, she didn't think she'd be able to stay awake. And she needed to stay awake, because apparently Rodney had thought that it was a good idea to lock himself and John in a lab and make it impossible for them to get out.

Beside her, there was a small spark, some smoke, and a torrent of what Teyla could only assume were swear words from Zelenka.

"Is there any progress?" Teyla asked him, hoping against hope that whatever Zelenka was saying was in fact an expression of hopeful discovery.

"No," Zelenka replied, his frustration plain. "Rodney destroyed the mechanism to open the door. I am not sure that I can fix this. Even if I can-"

"It will take a while?" Teyla finished, sighing as Zelenka nodded. Resignedly, she took another sip of coffee and tapped the comms.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

There was no answer. She tried again, but the comms remained silent. Wondering if Rodney had somehow managed to destroy that as well, she knocked on the door.

"Rodney? Colonel Sheppard?"

There was another moment of silence, and then what sounded like hurried, slightly uneven footsteps.

"Teyla? Are you trying to get me to open the door too? I already told Sheppard no, you know."

"No, I am not," Teyla called, waving for Zelenka to be silent. "I wished to talk to John. Why is he not answering?"

Silence, then a sort of muffled gasp from Rodney. "He's _asleep_ , he's supposed to be _helping_ me, just a moment, I'll get him-"

Teyla thought she heard the sound of liquid sloshing, then a brief scuffle and a yelp.

"MCKAY-"

Hurriedly, Teyla tapped her earpiece and cleared her throat. She'd heard John's voice clearly even from the other side of the door, and he sounded angry. "John? Are you there?"

"McKay dumped _coffee_ on me," John responded, his voice a growl in her ear.

From the other side of the door, Teyla caught Rodney's voice raised in protest, but she couldn't quite tell what he was saying.

John's response was sharp. "Well, if you got the damn door open, then I wouldn't have to sleep on the fucking couch, would I?"

"Well you're not supposed to be sleeping anyways!" That was Rodney's voice, sounding high and almost panicked even though as far as Teyla knew there was no part of this situation that was not his fault. "You're supposed to be helping me!"

"Helping you? With what? All you've done so far is destroy the door and play sudoku!"

"Well all you've done so far is...sleep, and...and yell at me, and...not fix the door..."

"You were the one who destroyed the door!" John roared.

Teyla shoved her shoulder against the door, knowing even as she did it that it would be completely useless. There was no way they were going to get Rodney and John out, not until Zelenka figured out the mechanism or Rodney came down from whatever he was on and repaired it himself.

Teyla heard Rodney yell something back, although he had moved away from the door and she could no longer make out what it was. Teyla folded her legs beneath her and sat down in the hallway, resting her head against the wall. Even though she knew there was nothing she could really do, she didn't want to leave them. Maybe if a fight broke out, she would be able to moderate it somehow, even from out here. And at the very least, at least she could have constant updates on Rodney's condition, which Carson, when she had explained the situation to him, had thought might take a sudden drop.

She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose as the sound of John yelling rose in the background. It was going to be a _long_ night.

* * *

John wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed. Once Rodney had finished yelling, and John had gotten a somewhat reluctant apology for having _coffee dumped on him,_ the scientist had turned to the white board and begun scribbling frantically. This, John figured, was good. If they had to be trapped in a lab together with Rodney so high he was shaking and flushed and John so tired he could barely walk straight, at least Rodney seemed to be accomplishing something. That was better than this being totally wasted time, and it seemed to be keeping Rodney occupied.

John wasn't sure exactly what it was that Rodney was trying to solve. He had a pretty good view of the whiteboard from where he was sitting, but that didn't help much. Rodney had written a series of equations out along the top of the board, and drawn several lines beneath them. He had added some numbers and letters beneath the lines. Now, he seemed to be in the process of circling some of them. John recognized a few of the equations from long-ago math classes, but nothing about the context rang a bell. Rodney could be doing anything from solving Fermi's paradox to inventing a microwave that made food cold.

Sometimes, Rodney would stop writing and start muttering to himself instead. John couldn't make out most of what he was saying.

"How's it going?" John asked, mostly just to have something to say.

"Amazingly well," Rodney said with a feverish excitement. "I'm on the verge of something. Something big."

John didn't bother to ask what the something big was. Most likely, Rodney wouldn't answer, and any answer he did give probably wouldn't make sense. Sadly, John didn't think it was the door.

At the whiteboard, Rodney was struggling to uncap a new marker. His hands were trembling harder now, John noticed with some concern. Eventually, the marker bounced out of Rodney's fumbling fingers and clattered onto the floor. Rodney stared at it, then his hands, obviously dismayed.

John leaned over, picked up the marker, uncapped it, and offered it to Rodney. Rodney took it, staring at it as though it held the key to the secrets of the universe. With the way he seemed to be thinking right now, maybe it did.

"Thank you," Rodney finally said, still staring at the marker. John smiled. Rodney hardly ever said thank you. Maybe John should drug him more often.

"You're welcome, Rodney," John told him, sinking back into his chair.

"No. Thank you. For staying. For...understanding that this is important."

"No problem, buddy," John said softly, unsure what else to say. He felt any residual anger from the coffee incident drain away. He liked Rodney, and he trusted his judgement, and he valued his input and expertise on missions, but the man had an ego the size of a small solar system. John had grown accustomed to Rodney's complete refusal to adhere to things like social niceties, or polite conversation involving "please," "thank you," or "I'm sorry."

"I just-"

"This drug is really doing a number on you, huh?" John asked, looking Rodney over one more time. Was it just his imagination, or did Rodney look paler?

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rodney said dismissively, turning back to the board and beginning to scribble again. John fell silent, watching Rodney work.

Ten minutes and innumerable incomprehensible symbols later, Rodney dropped the marker and threw his hands into the air.

"I did it! I solved it!"

"Great job!" John said encouragingly. "What did you solve again?"

"That was all me," Rodney told him, happily ignoring John's question. "I solved it. Me! Alone! I am the KING OF SCIENCE!"

John blinked. Rodney was now glowing with a kind of frenetic energy that was a bit frightening to watch. He was still trembling faintly, standing shaky and pale in front of a whiteboard covered with symbols John couldn't even read. And he had just...declared himself the King of science. It would be funny, except...it wasn't. Rodney looked like he was about to fall over, and John was starting to get pretty worried.

"Oh," John said. "Um...good job. I'm glad that...worked for you. What...what was it that you were trying to do again?"

"Get Kate to date me," Rodney declared. "A lot of people think the best way to get dates is by talking to the person, but I...I know better. That's just one step. And not the most important one. Maybe the least important one actually. Look at all these other steps." He gestured to the whiteboard behind him.

"Isn't she...your therapist?" John said slowly. It was hard to say what the exact rules on Atlantis were, but John was quite positive that on earth, one was absolutely prohibited from even attempting to date one's therapist.

"Yes, yes, and I've accounted for all that," Rodney said dismissively, waving one trembling hand. "There are certain...rules that must be abided by. But they're all right here. I've written...these are steps. These are the steps I have to take. And I can tell you about them. First is, uh, I need to get a haircut. And I need to...read a psychology textbook. I don't...you know I don't care much for psychology. But then we'll have more things to talk about. It's all part of the formula. I'm the _King of science._ "

Rodney was definitely looking pale. In fact, his face looked rather waxy. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, and his eyes were red and a little glassy. John could tell his breathing was just a bit too fast, even from across the room. His throat was working, and if John didn't know better he would have thought Rodney was going to get sick.

"Hey," John said, as calmly as he could. "I want to finish hearing about your...plan, but why don't you sit down over here while you do it?"

Rodney shook his head. "No, there was something else I was supposed to do. Solve the...solve the therapist problem, and then...oh, fix the door. Wait, is there someone out there? Did you call someone earlier? I don't know if-"

John cut Rodney off, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him forcefully towards the sofa.

"Sit down," John said, firmly as he dared, pushing on Rodney's shoulder until he sat. "Rodney, you need rest."

"Can't sleep, can't sleep," Rodney said, hands twining in his lap.

"Try," John suggested. "Or, you know, maybe at least close your eyes."

Rodney shook his head, eyes approaching frantic. "Don't feel right," he mumbled.

John sighed. "Yeah, that's probably the overdose on mysterious stimulants. Look, Zelenka is working on the door. Drink some water, maybe try to breathe, you might feel better."

Rodney nodded, sucking in a huge breath as though he'd forgotten how. Then, he closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the couch. John glanced towards the door, hoping Zelenka was making progress. He wasn't sure how much longer Rodney could last.


	2. Chapter 2

John's voice crackled to life in Teyla's ear. "Give me some good news," he said, voice so quiet that his words were a bit difficult to make out.

"John? Can you speak up?"

She heard a soft sigh. "No, I've finally got him...resting. Don't wanna risk waking him up. He's...not doing so well."

"I can tell."

"What have you been able to hear?" John asked.

Teyla covered her eyes lightly with a palm, trying to fight off her headache. She could only make out specific words when John or Rodney were close to the door, but she had heard Rodney loudly declare himself the "King of science," as well as something about his therapist. She was glad to hear that he was resting, finally. He had sounded...strung out, to say the least.

"I have not been able to hear much," she said.

"He's...have you talked to Beckett at all?"

Teyla nodded slightly, then remembered John couldn't see her. She was quite adept at Atlantis technology by this point, but sometimes when she was over-tired the comms in particular confused her.

"Yes," she said. "I spoke to him at the beginning of the night."

"Rodney's not in danger, right? Not really?"

"Doctor Beckett did not believe so. But Rodney has taken more of the stimulant than he was intended to, and the effects are likely to be quite uncomfortable for some time yet. Beckett also said…."

"What?" John sounded both exhausted and nervous, and she hated hearing it in his voice.

"Beckett said Rodney had been taking the stimulant long enough with no breaks that it was possible that his body had developed a...dependency on it."

"You mean he'll go through withdrawal?" John hissed.

Teyla sighed. "Beckett was not sure. But he said it was possible."

"How's Zelenka coming with getting that door fixed?" John asked.

"I am not sure. I do not believe he has made much progress. I will...visit his lab now, and see if there is anything I can report back to you."

"Alright, thanks Teyla," John said. He paused for a second. "Oh, I need to go, I think he's waking up."

The comms clicked off. Teyla hauled herself to her feet, praying that Zelenka would have some better news.

* * *

Rodney did not feel good anymore. For a while, he'd been able to ignore the shakes, and the aching, and the overall feeling that every nerve ending was buzzing slightly at exactly the frequency to set his teeth on edge. He'd pushed it to the back of his mind, taking the clarity that came with the discomfort as a worthwhile tradeoff.

But not now. Rodney didn't feel sharp anymore. He'd really thought he'd had something with the Kate thing, but Sheppard hadn't seemed impressed, and now that Rodney thought about it, he really wasn't sure why it was important. Maybe it wasn't. He couldn't tell, and that was the frightening part.

Rodney shuddered and gave up on rest. He opened his eyes and pushed up himself on the couch, noting fuzzily that his limbs seemed weak and shaky.

"Rodney? I thought you were gonna try to get some sleep." John was standing in front of him, looking both exhausted and very worried. Rodney wondered dimly why he was worried, then realized that it was probably because of him.

"Can't," Rodney said, watching his hand tremble. He flexed it, then closed it into a fist. Either way, it still felt weak and not quite attached to his arm. He didn't like that.

"You sure?" John asked, quietly.

"I don't want to be here anymore," Rodney said, all in a rush. He frowned. He hadn't intended to say that. Still, as the sound echoed again and again inside his skull, he realized it was true.

"Me either," John agreed, still talking in the same quiet tone. All of a sudden, his hand was on Rodney's shoulder, and the new sensory input felt like needles in his skin but Rodney somehow didn't mind.

John squeezed his shoulder slightly and continued speaking. "Think you can get the door open?"

That was an excellent question. Rodney started to stand, but his shaky legs gave way suddenly beneath him and dumped him back onto the sofa. He felt...wrong, horribly wrong, like he was too hot and too cold all at once. Like his skin wasn't made of skin anymore. Like time wasn't going forwards, but was instead going sideways, spreading out beneath him.

He took a deep, uneven breath. It didn't help. His lungs couldn't seem to expand all the way.

"I...I don't know that I can," he said breathlessly. He let his eyes slip closed. The world was starting to spin unpleasantly around him. He...he had to be imagining that, right? What if the solar flare had...done something to Atlantis, something Rodney hadn't noticed before. And now it really was spinning, and Rodney was the only one who noticed, and Rodney was going to die, and John was going to die….

He realized his breathing had sped up a little, which wasn't helping any. He was getting a little lightheaded, which...wasn't good. He didn't think it was good. But maybe he had been lightheaded the whole time. It was hard to be certain. Maybe he wasn't even real.

There was a hand on his shoulder again. John's voice. "Hey, Rodney, breathe, come on."

"The door," he whispered, "and it's...spinning…."

"Zelenka can fix the door," John said, and Rodney held onto the sound of John's voice like it was a lifeline. "Lie back down."

Rodney did as he was told, letting John help arrange his trembling frame on the sofa, and as he did so, he realized he was starting to get horribly nauseous. Probably from all the spinning. Maybe from all the stimulant he'd ingested. He swallowed uncomfortably.

"Are you cold?" John asked. He didn't sound too worried, but...a little. That made Rodney's heart start to beat faster again.

Rodney thought about the question. He wasn't exactly sure if he was cold. It was possible that he was very very hot. But then again, he was shaking pretty hard. He nodded his head slightly without opening his eyes. He thought if he had to open his eyes and look at the spinning room again he would vomit.

"Okay," John said. "Okay. I'm going to...find you a blanket."

The sound of rustling. It hurt Rodney's ears. He tried to keep breathing deeply. Eventually, Rodney heard John return, and something was draped over him. It was warmer, certainly, and Rodney was grateful.

"Better?" John asked, and Rodney nodded. He cracked open an eye, trying to thank John with a glance rather than words, and immediately regretted it.

Before Rodney could manage to warn John, or even fully realize what was about to happen, the dizziness spiked and he was emptying the contents of his stomach over the side of the couch. At this point, that was mainly only coffee and stimulants.

"Fuck. Okay, it's okay, Rodney. Umm…."

Rodney squeezed his eyes shut and retched again, dimly registering John's hand on his shoulder.

"You're okay," John told him, and Rodney wasn't sure if the uncertainty in his voice was really there, or if it was in Rodney's imagination. Rodney wasn't sure of much of anything, anymore.

* * *

John gave Rodney's shoulder an awkward pat. Rodney didn't respond, just continued to lie with his head hanging over the edge of the couch, panting weakly.

"You done, buddy?"

Rodney made a miserable sort of sound that could loosely be interpreted as a yes. John sighed and tugged at his jacket, trying to get it to cover Rodney's torso a bit more. Rodney still didn't move.

"We gotta get out of here," John muttered to himself.

"Yep," Rodney mumbled, then groaned and closed his eyes again. "Don't like this."

"Of course you don't," John told him. "That's what happens when you overdose."

"Mmff." That, more than anything else, worried John. If Rodney wasn't rising to the challenge to his ego, he must really be feeling sick.

John tapped his earpiece. "Teyla, has Zelenka made any progress?"

He must have caught her while she was in the lab, because John heard her muffled voice asking a soft question on the other side.

"Zelenka has told me to report to you that Rodney is an idiot." She paused, and John heard the faint sound of Zelenka's voice in the background. "And that you should tell him."

John sighed. "That's a no, then?"

"He believes Rodney has...broken the mechanism. He is not sure it can be fixed."

"Great," John said, regretting the sarcasm instantly. It was neither Teyla nor Zelenka's fault that Rodney had decided to destroy Ancient technology in a desperate bid to win over his therapist. "Tell him thanks."

"I will update you if I find out more," Teyla said. The comms disconnected.

"Alright," John said, half to Rodney and half to himself. "We need to...get you out of here. Looks like it's up to us."

Rodney didn't respond. It was unclear if he had heard. He seemed focused on trying to keep from vomiting again.

John thought Rodney had probably crossed the line into withdrawal, and he knew the time for action was now. He didn't want to keep Rodney trapped in the lab, just waiting to see if he got worse. He wanted Rodney to be under Carson's care, and sooner rather than later.

John already had a plan starting to take shape in his mind, and he knew that it was not a plan that Carson would like. He took a deep breath.

"Rodney," John asked, waiting a beat while Rodney's eyes slowly focused on him. "I think I might...know a way that we can get out of this room."

"What is it?" Rodney croaked, voice raw from the vomiting and weak from whatever the drugs were doing to his system.

"We're going to blow the door open. We need to build a bomb."

* * *

Rodney lay on the couch shivering, trying not to engage too much with what John was doing unless the Colonel directly asked him a question. He still felt sick, and generally just...wrong. He had protested John's bomb, but it was mostly just a token complaint at this point. John had said he thought Rodney was probably withdrawing from the stimulants, and needed to see Carson as soon as possible. Rodney hated to agree with any sort of plan that involved part of his lab being blown up, but he had to admit that John was probably right. He needed help. And since he had, in his infinite wisdom, destroyed the door, he couldn't really think of another way that he was likely to get it.

"Can you think of anything I can use to hold these wires in place, I can't find-"

"I'm not an electrical engineer," Rodney grumbled. His head hurt, his stomach hurt, opening his eyes made him feel like he was being wounded by the dim overhead lights. He wanted John to just shut up and solve this problem on his own.

"This isn't an electrical problem, it's definitely a mechanical one," John said, but he didn't follow it up with any further questions so Rodney figured he was off the hook. A few moments later, he heard the sound of rustling.

"Got it," John said. Rodney didn't move. He hoped he wouldn't have to. Maybe, whatever bomb John had made was a small one, and it would nicely blow a hole in the door and Rodney would be perfectly fine all the way over here….

"Can you get behind the couch?" John asked from by the door. "This is gonna be big."

Of course Sheppard wasn't going to make a _small_ bomb. Rodney should have guessed.

Rodney shook his head, just slightly enough to stave off nausea. "Attached to the wall."

"Course it is," John said, sighing heavily. "Okay, try to kinda hide in the corner between it and the wall?"

Rodney tried. Really, he did. But no matter how hard he _thought_ about moving, his limbs didn't seem to want to cooperate. And after a few seconds of concentration, both his nausea and his headache spiked and Rodney groaned.

"Okay," John said, and Rodney heard him cross the room again and then John was helping him sit up, supporting his exhausted muscles as he helped slide Rodney to the floor.

Rodney collapsed into a heap facing the wall, moaning as his head bounced gently off the hard tiles.

"Sorry, Rodney," John said quietly, sounding surprisingly sincere. "We're almost out of here. Keep your head down."

And before Rodney had time to raise any further concerns about the bomb, before he really even processed what was happening, John was gone. Footsteps crossed the room, and then there was a pause. Was it Rodney's imagination, or had he actually heard John's lighter click open?

"Fire in the hole!"

* * *

_One._ John sprinted back across the lab as fast as he could, wishing the room was bigger, wishing that he'd had more to work with, wishing he'd been able to work something out with a timer, or a detonator, or anything but the short fuse he'd had to rely on.

_Two._ He'd managed to give himself about five seconds, and even that was a luxury.

_Three._ The count in his head was going faster than he'd expected, or maybe the lab was bigger than he'd given it credit for. Either way, he had more ground to cover and he was running out of time.

_Four._ John had to make it to Rodney, he wasn't sure how far the debris would reach and Rodney was in no condition for any additional injury. He was trying to rescue Rodney, not blow him up. He was almost there, just a few more steps-

_Five._ John leapt.

The blast caught him in the small of the back, hurling him forward. John's forehead bounced off the back wall of the lab, and he crumpled, instinctively curling in on himself. In the process, he somehow managed to block Rodney from the worst of the blast. For a long few seconds, he just stayed as still as he could as debris rained down around him, trying to keep Rodney safe. Aches and pains prickled over his skin, but he wouldn't be able to tell if he were seriously injured until he was able to move around. He could feel the heat from the explosion on his back, but until he felt safe enough to open his eyes and turn his head, he also wouldn't be able to tell if the lab was on fire.

"Is that-" Rodney stirred slightly beneath John, and trailed off without finishing his sentence. He sounded weak and exhausted.

John tried to quiet his breathing, and spent a moment listening for the sound of rubble hitting the ground. Everything was - more or less - quiet. John felt that it was safe to pick his head up and look around, still keeping one hand on Rodney's shoulder, whether to comfort him or keep him in place even John wasn't sure.

The plan had...worked seemed like a rather strong word, although that was more a fault of the plan itself than its execution. The lab was in ruins, although John had no doubt that Rodney would somehow find a way to repair it, given time. Computers and other equipment lay strewn across the floor, some shattered, some blackened and bubbling, some still smoking slightly. The air was hazy with smoke, and John's lungs contracted unhappily. However, nothing appeared to be actively on fire, so he supposed he should count himself lucky.

The door had a hole in it that seemed perfectly human-sized, once the twisted edges of metal cooled down enough to touch. Teyla's worried face peeked through - she must have returned from Zelenka's lab just in time for the explosion. John gave her a sheepish smile, although he wasn't sure she could see it through all the smog.

"John?" she called. "Are you...alright? What has happened?"

"I just made a little bomb," John said, getting slowly to his feet. Everything hurt, but no pain seemed sharper than the rest. He supposed that was a good sign. He would be sore for a few days, but that he could handle.

"You...you caused this?" Teyla asked tentatively, staring around at the smoking wreckage of the lab.

"Yeah," John said unselfconsciously. "You heard Zelenka, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to get the door open. And I had to get Rodney out. He-"

John trailed off, reaching a hand down to Rodney. "Hey," he said gently, ignoring Teyla for the time being. "How are you doing? Are you alright? It's time to get you out of here."

Rodney appeared relatively unscathed. He was still pale, and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, but there was no obvious blood or broken limbs.

"Am I dead?" he asked, blinking rapidly. Usually, this would just be a typical McKay complaint, but for all John knew, Rodney was actually out of it enough for it to be unclear.

"Nope," John informed him. "There was a teensy little explosion. But, hey, I fixed the door...well, sort of."

Rodney didn't really seem to process John's words. He glanced around the smoking ruins of the lab, finally landing on John's face. His eyes widened, although at this point it was hard for John to tell.

"Are _you_ dead?"

John followed Rodney's sightline to his forehead and touched his fingers to his temple. It was aching from his impact with the wall, but John hadn't noticed anything more than that. They came away red, and Rodney looked even more panicked.

"I'm not dead either, McKay. It's not bad. I bet I don't even need stitches."

Rodney looked like he was about to protest, or cry, or possibly faint. John didn't love any of those options, and he hurriedly cleared his throat.

"Let's get out of here, huh, buddy?" John closed his hand around Rodney's and hauled him to his feet, steadying him as he swayed. Together, they made their way through the blackened machinery to the doorway.

* * *

Rodney sat and shivered miserably, trying to tune out the angry Scotsman scolding him.

"Really, Rodney, I warned you. This is a powerful stimulant, and the dosage I gave you was very strict, and you-"

"I know," Rodney interrupted wearily. "You've been telling me for the past thirty minutes."

Cason rolled his eyes and turned back to fiddling with Rodney's IV. Rodney felt much better now than he had thirty minutes ago, seeing as how he didn't really even remember the journey to the infirmary. Teyla had John had had to support him for the last leg, something which Rodney thought was slightly embarrassing and didn't want to think too hard about. Luckily, once Carson had Rodney settled on a bed, he had immediately sent Teyla back to her room to get some sleep. Unfortunately, John had had to stick around to get his head fixed or something.

"Lay back now," Carson instructed him. "I've got you on fluids, and I'll monitor your life signs. Other than that, the only thing left is for you to finally get some sleep."

As horrible as Rodney felt, shaky, drained, and freezing, he still didn't feel tired.

"Rodney-" Carson sounded so exhausted that it almost made Rodney sleepy. Almost.

"I'll try," Rodney said grudgingly, letting his head fall back onto the pillow and groaning as every single one of his muscles protested. He felt like he'd been hit by a cement roller, or possibly gone a few rounds with Teyla. Muscle groups that he hadn't even been aware of were aching.

"How is he?"

Rodney cracked an eye open to see John sidle past Carson and slump into a chair. There was a cut on his forehead, neatly closed with a few butterfly bandages. Rodney frowned. He vaguely remembered….

"You blew up my lab."

"You're welcome," John retorted. "Now your heart isn't beating three times as fast as normal and you can go to sleep. Finally."

Rodney wanted to sleep. Really, he did. But every nerve ending in his body still felt like a live wire, and sleep felt a million miles away.

"Colonel, if that cut's all taken care of, Rodney needs to get some sleep now," Carson said, finally finishing whatever he was doing with the IV and hovering by the doorway.

"I _can't_ ," Rodney protested, frustration building inside him. Sheppard was going to leave, and so was Carson, and Rodney would be miserable and alone and unable to sleep and all of a sudden that sounded worse than being trapped in the lab.

"I think I'll stick around," John said, sinking deeper into the chair. "Til he's asleep, anyway. I figure he'll be totally out, maybe I can draw a moustache or something-"

"None of that," Carson said firmly, but he was smiling, and Rodney was still a bit too out of it to fully follow what was happening but he thought Sheppard might have just done something nice for him.

"Try to sleep, Rodney." With that, Carson vanished, and Rodney was left with the distinct impression that he should be thanking John.

"Sheppard-"

John was already asleep, draped uncomfortably over the arm of the chair, and quietly snoring. So much for that. Rodney smirked slightly, and closed his eyes. Much to his surprise, he found himself drifting off.


End file.
